


Notice Me

by millijayne13



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cute, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Romantic Fluff, Teenage Drama, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:07:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27303157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millijayne13/pseuds/millijayne13
Summary: Request: Can I please request an Oliver x Reader fic, a bit maybe angsty, but happy ending where the reader is hot tempered and likes Oliver, but he is too invested in quidditch to realise her feelings?
Relationships: Oliver Wood/Original Character(s), Oliver Wood/Original Female Character(s), Oliver Wood/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50





	Notice Me

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my Tumblr: @iliveiloveiwrite
> 
> Warnings: swearing, angst, panic BUT FLUFF AND OLIVER BEING A CUTIE
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a comment and a kudos if you enjoyed!

The ticking of the clock insisted on taunting you by getting slower and slower as the lesson progressed. Your knee began to bounce as you counted down the minutes until the bell rang and you could leave the classroom.

You throw your things into your bag as you rush out of the classroom; all the time hoping he would be waiting.

“Sassenach,” A thick Scottish accent calls out, “Where do you think you’re going?”

You grin at the familiar sight of Oliver Wood waiting for you outside the classroom; leaning up against the wall, hands in his pockets with the sleeves of his uniform rolled up. You approach him; his hand outstretched for your bag which he shoulders when you hand it to him.

“You know,” You start, “You’re going to get in trouble for calling me that.”

He smirks at you, “I don’t think I will, I’m too loved for that to happen.”

You nudge his side with your elbow, “I don’t believe that for a minute, Wood.”

Oliver throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side, “Hush you, let’s go get some lunch, I’m starving.”

You laugh, “When aren’t you?”

“I’ll have you know; I’ve got to be big and strong as Captain of the Quidditch team.”

You snort, reaching to his other side and squeezing his bicep, “Sure you are, Ol. You’re big and strong.”

“You wound me, woman.”

“Take me to lunch, Wood,” You giggle.

Oliver pulls away from you, bowing down to you, “As you wish, my lady.”

You shove him to the side, but he comes back to you, his arm landing back on your shoulder, “You’re a shit, Oliver.”

“But you love me.”

\-------------------

Falling for Oliver Wood happened fast. It happened fast and it left a mark.

It happened between one blink and the next, you’re sure of it.

Thinking back to it, it had to happened when he smiled at you one morning in the Great Hall through Sixth Year. His smile lit up his entire face; bringing out the innate kindness that radiates from within his very core. His brown eyes sparkled and between one drink of orange juice and the next, you had realised you’d fallen in love with your best friend.

Simultaneously, everything made sense and your heart stuttered with the fact, but your stomach dropped, and your mind went into overdrive.

Did he already know?

Was he just pitying you?

How would he react if he found out?

Does he feel the same?

You worked through each question internally; barely finding enough to answer one of the questions suitably.

So you let yourself sit with your feelings, wondering whether they were just a temporary crush.

A year later, they hadn’t disappeared, and it was no longer a crush.

\--------------

You loved Oliver Wood for a lot of reasons; he was kind, he was charming, he was attractive, and he was passionate.

Especially about Quidditch.

But it seemed that he only had eyes for Quidditch, and whilst you love his passion for the sport – making sure you attend every match and helping him plan strategies, you just wish he would notice you a bit more.

For the last month, conversation only seemed to revolve around Quidditch and its strategy and its history.

And as much as you love the brunette, there was only so many times you could be brushed over before deciding enough was enough.

\----------

It came to ahead on a Saturday evening. For the fourth evening in a row, Oliver was ranting about Quidditch strategy and whilst you appreciated the passion he has for the sport – it being one of the things you love about him – you wish you could have a conversation about something else.

“Oliver?”

He hums in answer; still extremely focused on the piece of paper in front of him.

“I need to talk to you.”

He hums again, eyes still on the paper.

You clench your hands into fists, willing yourself not to ball up the paper and throw it into his face. You clench your teeth, “Yeah, I was thinking about asking out Marcus Flint from the Slytherin team.”

It was a petty attempt at jealousy. It was a petty attempt at getting a rise out of him.

It was a desperate attempt to get his attention.

“Oh?” is all he replies, crossing something out on the page, writing a name above it.

It’s then that you realise, Oliver probably isn’t going to ever see you as something more. He’d only ever see you as someone to discuss Quidditch strategy with.

The realisation feels like a blow to the face, and you rock back in your chair from the force of it. You look at Oliver, but he hasn’t noticed a thing. Why would he? He’s bent over the strategy for next week’s match; figuring out the team’s weak points and thinking of solutions.

You blink fast; the sadness coursing through your body and bringing tears to your eyes. It felt as if your heart had been ripped out and smashed to pieces on the very floor of the common room for the entire house to lay witness to.

Yet for them, nothing has changed – they continue to talk, to study, to laugh.

For you, everything’s changed.

And the room is becoming too warm and the walls are becoming too close. It’s all too much, and you need to leave.

You need to get out now.

Clearing your throat, you whisper, “I’m going to bed, I’ll see you at some point tomorrow.”

Oliver waves still bent over the plan for next week. He didn’t notice the way your voice breaks, or how vague you were when saying goodnight.

Rising from your seat, you fight back the gathering tears until you’re in your room.

There, you let them fall in heart-wrenching, chest crushing sobs. Mechanically, you take off your robes and replace them with your pyjamas. Your blind to it all; the tears falling too thick and too fast for you to see clearly.

With your wand in your hand, you brokenly whisper a charm to close the curtains surrounding your four-poster bed, desperate for the privacy in which you could let yourself fall into your pit of despair and hopelessness.

You feel ridiculous for having fallen for someone who’s first love would always be a sport. You hide your face in your pillow; letting the cotton of your pillow case muffle the sobs that will not stop falling from your mouth.

\--------

The morning brings sore eyes and sad looks from your dorm mates who had heard your muffled sobs and put two and two together pretty quicky. You smile at them, softly apologising, before taking your things to the bathroom to clean yourself up.

There you get a look at the damage. Your eyes already seem duller; the colour dimmed from the agony of your realisation.

_Enough_ , you berate yourself. You have shed your tears, and now it was time to figure out the next move. As you’re brushing your teeth, you think over your options.

You could talk to Oliver but the idea of potentially ruining your friendship has you backtracking.

Running a brush through you hair, you have another idea. You could simply work to get over Oliver whilst maintaining the friendship. You had been friends for over a year before you started having feelings for the Scot; surely you could return to friendship, _right?_

\---------------

Breakfast feels stilted and awkward on your end; you pick at your food; your appetite having disappeared overnight.

Oliver watches you with a funny expression on his face. His eyes flicker between your face and the full plate of food in front of you, “Sassenach, are you alright?”

You want to cry at the use of your nickname, “I’m okay, Oliver. Just not feeling very well.”

He reaches across the table and presses the back of his hand to your forehead; feeling for a fever or anything to explain this change, “You feel fine…” he trails off, eyebrows furrowed.

You bat his hand away with a short laugh; your temper attached to a short fuse with how little sleep you got on account of crying late into the night, “Oh hush Oliver, you are a worrywart! I’ll be fine when I get to class.”

Oliver frowns at your outburst and at the way you bat his hand away from your forehead. He doesn’t get to air his concerns though; you grab your bag, taking a sip of the orange juice, “I’ll see you later on.”

For a long time after you leave, Oliver stares at the doors of the Great Hall wondering when exactly he had started to lose you.

\-------

The week passes slowly; like trudging through the deepest mud.

Every time your mind slipped into a daydream with him featuring at the main character, you brought your focus back to the lesson and your work. _If this carries on, I’ll have the highest grades in the year,_ you thought to yourself sarcastically.

You pull away gradually; protecting your heart from the inevitable heart break should Oliver ever find out about your feelings.

He makes it hard though; he continues to meet you outside classrooms and will always carry your bag whether the load was light or heavy – he always insisted. He carries on with the little touches and grabbing your hand at random parts of the day to pull your attention to something he’s noticed, and he always, _always_ talks to you about Quidditch.

And all you want to do is scream at the teenager for making it so damn hard to fall out of love with him. For making it so hard to stop the racing of your heart or the daydreams from your mind. For making it so hard to stop the butterflies that erupted with each lopsided smile and his pronunciation of your nickname.

But you don’t; you remain silent, wondering if he’ll ever notice the shattered remains of your heart caged in your chest.

\-----------

The day felt like it was going to be uneventful; if this what getting over Oliver felt like then you were tempted to ask for a refund.

Your lessons pass slowly; the Professor’s making it their aim to drag out the teaching material until the very last moment before NEWTs.

When the ball finally rings signalling lunch, you place your things in your bag mechanically, swinging it onto your shoulder as you leave the classroom.

You sigh as you notice there’s no sign of Oliver waiting for you. You blink back the sudden onset of tears; this was your call, you berate yourself.

You don’t see who grabs you until your pulled into an empty classroom.

You glare at the familiar brown eyes of Oliver Wood, “Oliver!”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” You state, head held high, eyes never leaving his.

“Bullshit,” He shouts, “You’re pulling away from me and I don’t know why.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious. I miss you. What’s happened for you to pull away like this?” He asks, his voice breaking a little.

Hearing that break in his voice, you want to take him into your arms and apologise for letting him think the worst.

But your head overrules your heart.

“For Merlin’s sake, Oliver! How could you be so blind?” You cry out.

“Blind? To what?”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for your next few words, “Oliver, I like you. As in more than a friend.”

His eyes widen as he takes you in with entirely new eyes.

The silence is deafening; it’s pressing down on you like a heavy stone. The weight of it making it somewhat hard to breathe. The longer he’s silent; the worse it gets for you.

“If you’re going to reject me, you better get on with it,” You snap; dread settling in your gut like a lead balloon making your short temper, shorter.

Oliver seems to shake himself out of his trance at your words, “Why would I ever do that?”

You throw your arms wide, your bag falling to the floor, “I don’t know… because you don’t feel the same?”

“But I don’t… I feel the same.”

Your arms drop to your sides, “What?”

Oliver nods, “I feel the same.” At your bewildered expression, he continues, “I thought you knew.”

“Oliver, you don’t notice anything unless it starts with the letter Q and ends in H.”

He frowns, “That’s not true!”

“Oh? Prove me wrong then, Wood.”

He grins at the challenge, “I noticed you. I haven’t noticed anything but you since we became friends. Merlin, (Y/N), I’ve been in love with you since Sixth Year when you told me to get myself together after we lost a match against Hufflepuff.”

His accent gets thicker the more he talks; he’s getting worked up and the brogue becomes something else.

“Since Sixth Year?” You interject, a small smile breaking out across your face.

Oliver nods, blush painting his cheeks.

You sigh out a breath of relief, “Thank Merlin, I’ve liked you since then too.”

“Then why were you pulling away?” He asks in a hurt tone.

You drop your eyes, “It was my way of trying to get over you.”

“Get over me?”

“It didn’t work!” You rush out at his hurt look, “I don’t think there’s any getting over you.”

Something resembling relief falls over his face, and your heart flutters at the sight of it.

Oliver takes your hand in his, tangling the fingers together. A simple action but one that held so much promise.

He takes a step closer to you; his other arm circling your waist.

You decide he’s taking too much time.

You drop his hand to wrap both arms around his neck pulling him down for the kiss you’ve both hungered for, for so long. He laughs in surprise, but his arms quickly circle around you, his lips responding to your hungrily.

“So you’ve always noticed me huh?” You ask when you finally pull away, a teasing lilt to your voice.

“Sassenach, how could I not?” is all he replies before kissing you once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a comment and a kudos if you enjoyed!
> 
> Tumblr: @iliveiloveiwrite


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